


Mary Anne and the Seven Highway Bandits

by ViktoryaRozeTassi



Category: Original Work, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves spin off
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Original work - Freeform, elements of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViktoryaRozeTassi/pseuds/ViktoryaRozeTassi





	Mary Anne and the Seven Highway Bandits

**Prologue**

**The third day of the month Carnation, in the first year of Queen Evalinge’s reign**

The dagger gleamed in the light of the full moon as the man readied himself to slit the young child’s throat.

“Forgive me, sweet child,” he whispered, a single tear trickling down his face as his hands trembled. “I cannot do it,” he said to himself as the little girl stared up at him from his arms. He gazed down at her as she wiggled around, hoping to free her arms from magicked red cloak that protected her from the cold winter snow. “I cannot kill you.” He wiped away the lone tear in the corner of his eye before picking her up and swinging himself up onto his steed and galloping off through the forest. “You’ll be safe, I swear this on my life, little one.”

Within the hour, he arrived at a small cottage, where the mouthwatering aroma of home cooked stew was leaking out through the crack between door and stone. The man sighed with great sadness before gently placing the child down on the doorstep, wrapping her more snuggly in the oversized red cloak.

“May the good Lord have mercy on you, little one,” he murmured into the frosty air before vanishing into the night.

Just as soon as he was gone, three figures dressed in drab greens and browns materialized from the shadows and began to walk quickly towards the home. The child began to loudly fuss, and her cries only made the man and two young lads move faster.

“By the saints above!” swore the tallest of the three, picking up the little girl, who’s cries automatically dwindled down into quiet hiccups.

“What did the man leave us, papa?” piped up the youngest boy, standing on his tiptoes to try and see what his father was holding.

“It’s a baby!” gasped the other boy, being taller than his younger brother. “Should me and Albert go inside and tell mama to expect one more for dinner?”

“Yes please, Frederick- now go!” said the man, sending both his sons racing inside, loudly calling out “Mama, mama!” Their father wasted no time in entering the warm and spacious one roomed cottage, stomping his boots at the door to loosen the snow that he had collected while gathering firewood with his sons. The toddler in his arms shrank back at the noisy chaos inside the home. Two younger boys- twins, from the looks of them- were setting the table with a long stream of chatter while a plump, motherly woman watched over a pot of stew boiling merrily over a fire. She was listening to Fredrick and Albert, as they tumbled over their words, telling her of the little girl that someone had left at their doorstep.

“Let me see her, Henry,” she ordered, setting aside her needlework and crossing the room to take the toddler from her husband. “Ryley, keep watch over the stew!” she ordered one of the twins.

At this point, the toddler, now curious about her new surroundings, had pushed back the oversized hood from her head, her white curls sticking up every which way in curly tuffs, her violet eyes took in the cheery chaos with an innocent interest.

“What is it, mama?” called out the other twin, coming over from setting the table, followed closely by his identical twin brother, still keeping an eye on the rolling pot of stew.

“Henry, can you please go and tell the others that supper is ready?” the woman asked her husband, taking the child from his arms and carried her over to the stove. “Are you cold, little one?” she asked, her nose wrinkling at her torn and dirty rags which meagerly served as crude clothing.

The pale haired child only shook her head as Henry let out a loud bellow from the open door. The little girl jumped and giggled at his loud voice as three more youngsters tumbled into the cottage.

“I’m hungry!” crowed one young boy.

“I’m hungrier, Terrance!” boasted his younger brother with a serious look on his face as he stamped off the snow from his boots.

“Me too, me too!” added the youngest of all the brothers, getting in line to get his meal. One by one, everyone collected a bowl with strewed meats and greens before sitting at the table in an orderly fashion.

“Boys, someone left us a present,” Henry informed his sons as his wife sat down as well, with two spoons and a single bowl, which had a considerable amount less than her husband’s or sons’ bowls.

The girl squealed and clapped her hands and the seven brothers watched on in wild fascination as their mother fed her with the child perched in her lap.

“She’s so little!” said one of the twins, ignoring his meal and opting to watch his mother fuss over the child.

“Of course she’s little, Lars! She’s just a baby!” teased his twin, shoveling in a giant mouthful of food into his mouth. Lars scowled and flicked his brother’s ear, resulting in the eldest of the seven brothers to groan and roll his eyes, kicking at their legs from underneath the table.

“Honestly, are you two going to need to be separated again?” he said in exasperation.

“Sorry, Fredrick,” they both chimed with identical guilty faces.

“Are we going to be her brothers?” asked another lad, taking a small bite of his stew.

“I’ve always wanted a little sister!” added in the boy sitting to his right, as he too took a bite of his stew, though much larger and getting a few drops of his meal on his shirt.

“Me too, Jory!” chimed in the lad on Jory’s left.

Henry sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hand. “I don’t know. We don’t know why she was left in the forest- in the middle of winter, of all things, or where her family even is, or if they’re even alive. There may be people looking for her.”

“Not if she was left abandoned in the forest, papa!” protested Albert, finishing up his own stew and pushing the bowl forward to have a place to fold his hands up on the table.

The woman was ignoring all the chatter around her and was feeding the violet eyed little girl with a peaceful smile on her face. The toddler was happily allowing for the woman to feed her, already halfway asleep.

“Henry, look at her,” she begged him.

Henry looked all around the table and saw eight pairs of identical brown eyes silently pleading with him.

He sighed yet again and rose from the table with his bowl in hand.

“Alright, she can stay,” he agreed grudgingly. “But only until we find her family.”

The days turned into weeks, which turned into months. The child, christened with the name Mary Anne, had grown accustomed to living in a boisterous family, often times accompanying one of her seven older adopted brothers out into the forest as they went along their daily chore. She napped in the stable when Fredrick would muck the manure. She made flower crowns while Albert would skin the meat that their father brought home from hunting. She splashed in the stream as Terrence washed the family’s clothes. She chased butterflies while Lars milked the family cow. She daydreamed as Ryley chopped firewood and stacked the woodpile high. She played with the lambs while Cornelius tended to the flock of sheep. She got covered in wood shavings as Jory made small wood carvings to sell at market.

Henry quickly grew to love the child, who asked many questions and was always quite curious about the world around her. She toddled after anything that was brightly colored and moved, leaving the family breathless and tired after giving chase to the rather adventurous little girl. Anna, Henry’s wife, was gleeful that she had a little girl at last, despite not being of blood. She spent many an evening teaching Mary Anne how to sew and cook, taking the child onto her knee to tell stories as the pot cooked supper in the evenings.

And so, Mary Anne became a part of the family.


End file.
